Pdlyons's ExplorationsOnly Beliefs
Eventually, we all need to be willing to face the deepest, darkest beliefs we have about ourselves. Only in this way can we come to know that they are only beliefs, and not the truth about who we are.
– Ezra Bayda, from “The Three Things We Fear Most,” Tricycle, Spring 2009
So yesterday decanted tinctures of elder, star anise, lavender-ladys mantle. made new bread – a loaf of spelt bread and a loaf of rye. both came out edible! defrosted the f’n freezer. re-potted Morgans spider plant for her desk. cut a dozen more little red roses from the nameless red rose. the shields roses have taken root and are growing. but who knows if we’ll be here next season to see if they’ll bloom. we have a lease to sign but for some reason we keep putting it off – this was the coldest house i ever wintered in and that includes Canada and new england, we’re so close to the lake down in the valley and the wind roars into us. all the things that makes summer and spring so nice fail to impress in the long dark wet windy cold winter. it feels colder than snow even though we dont get any. any way still no word from Denis the publisher of Lapwing Press, he’s been working on a manuscript of mine for its like forever but really not, over a year though. but he’s my number one believer (who’s not related to me) and he was good enough to publish my little book back in 2000. so my father was able to see a book of mine in print before he died – which meant alot. ( my dad was the book man. he was a collecter, buyer and seller, reader, avid lover of the book in all its forms.)
so trying to be patient as Lapwing is a small but busy press and they are an oasis for many a starving poet not just myself. anyway now that i’m over the f’n flu, not swine flu, just the regular f’n flu. have to get back to the pursuit of publishing.
http://www.freewebs.com/lapwingpoetry/
sunshine in a bottle
if we truly see the world as it is our hearts would break.
and if our hard and well protected heart were broken
then they would become truly soft.
what if we all treated the world with softness,
the natural softness of the human heart?
is that buddha
is that christ,
is that the goddess
it that Allah,
god, Krishna
Zeus?
i dont know but it could be us
and if were us, what would our world look like then?
finally got to go to work. spent a few hours cutting grass in the village. done just before the showers. home with shelly for lunch and then pick up the child from school. homework, meal prep, walk down by the lake. tomorrow we’ll go to town, watch Morgan swimming lesson and then do a grocery shop – picking up some vodka for hawthorn tincture. tired now but in a good way. an evening yoga before bed, again the music of real silence, in other words whatever sounds there may be.
the duck of sport, love & compassion with the buddha
The Whole Day
-the whole day is practice.
lough lene
As Long As
-as long as we are in the present moment, we are relaxed. -– Ringu Tulku
there is a beauty even in the grey
drag of a grey morning, hard to shift the black dog off the bed. saved my life by blowing off work – couldnt get much done in the rain anyway, and keeping the practise alive kept me alive.
todays yoga music by Imee Ooi, her recording of The Chant Of Metta
http://www.immmusic.com/product/eng/product.htm
finally a long shower and shave and feeling human again. but the afternoon the sun as if in answer breaks through. even the cat has found a dry spot out by the hedge to curl up and dream in. so Morgans home from school and shelly from teaching the a.m. Pilates class and the dog is mad to go for a walk so after homework we’ll treat ourselves to a walk by the lake. get some photos, get so earth under our feet, get some of whatever it is we’re meant to see.
earlier this year
todays tip: remember practise is a way of living, not dependent on mood or weather. do not turn it into a negotiable thing
decanted another batch of st. johns. picked some more elderberries for making gifts for friends and family. still havent figured out what to do with the sloes. they arent ready to pick until the first hard frost which i hope is still a ways off. shelly is going to find a recipe for the rowan fruits so that will have some jam to go with my new bread making skills. as soon as we get a jug of vodka we can put up some hawthorn tincture.
tried to get some work done do in the village today but a sharp wind and bit of rain made it a no go. spent some time at the church yard. visiting those that have gone on. thinking about the autumn of the year and of my own years.
nameless red rose
back home round lunch time. sun broke through at about half two. hence the berry picking as well as cutting another rose from the just joey and some of the nameless red rose i got for two euros this past spring. so far it must have had two dozen flowers.
just joey and buddha
todays yoga music was silence, not the perfect kind, the real kind, you know the silence of wind blowing hedges against the house, dogs barking in the distance the occasional twitter of small birds, my own steady breath, the shadows moving with the afternoon sun and passing whispers of now white clouds.
Capri In The Book Shop
nocturnes written a long the ever passing caravan of days
deserted debris in hope of hastening a pitch black oasis
sparkling the only un-still things such as stars or the jewelled throat
by pd lyons
of ghosts haunted by something beyond all knowledge like your eyes
the only dark that shines as if a different kind of sun
my mouth for your love
dreams of smoke on wandering horizons
red glow desert darkness
a voice whispered wet silk
drawn as if my skin found out in the wind
scented by foreign creatures
ground perfumes attracting strong fingers
nourished by such exploring
fed by sky blue horses
my heart like other fruit contains a fertile seed
a treasure trove for beetles an insect paradise
and I saw you with tears in American gowns
you were just like Picasso but knelt on the ground
as if genuflecting before the print page you’d inhale
the spirit right out of his grave and I just couldn’t
take it so I wandered around as if I could shake you
like salt from my skull
but I end up returning an orbit of doubt
no matter how determined
the scent of your soapy skin draws me with
so many things I could not identify and even if I could
would never ever say
like ivory in the morning someplace else away
beyond a snow tipped mountain
before the savannahs open prayer
dark meandering luxurious survival
our daring selves mortal among the Edens.
there was that real “its alive! its alive!” moment when the bread dough began to rise. i had read how the yeast are sensitive creatures, if the water was too hot theyd die, if there was too much theyd drown. so carefully they had to be tended and then part of the cooking process was to stop the yeast from rising any further in other words to kill them. so we take good care of them to kill them. i guess no matter what we eat we have to kill something in order to do so.
the native people of america recognized this, but unlike us they didnt view the creatures they ate as inanimate objects. they might have thanked the diety but they also came to terms with the gift of life the individual creature gave them. how admirable, to have the courage to do this. they saw how all beings were connected in some way, how all life had equal right to exist. rather than bartering that away for some illusionary comfort they held the sanctity of all life to be equal and the tension/guilt over the killing of fellow creatures was a thing to be dealt with not avoided. the white buffalo woman brings the ritual to give thank to the animal and appease its spirit by performing the sacred ritual which would bring them back to life – ensure the continued survival of the buffalo. to face the fact that we humans must kill other creatures live. you could either wrap it up in plastic and sell it as unrecognisable bits in a supermarket or you could face and cope with your true actions and feelings. vegetarians kill to eat as well. plants are living creatures, full of life force. i’m not saying we should starve but i am wondering what if we had an honest relationship with our food. what if we acknowledge the equanimity of all life and at least be respectful enough to be grateful and to become involved with the creatures we call food?
for native peoples it was not negotiable whether or not all life was sacred. from that point the developed a civilization, culture and sacred ritual which incorporated them into the real world. what do we have in our life that is non negotiable?
padmasambhava, one of Tibet’s most sacred teachers advises his students – Want nothing, need nothing, know nothing. how brave would we be to meet the world that way? to allow, accept, and realise? to be unhidden from ourselves the world? to cope with what is rather than create elaborate avoidance techniques?
so today was sunny and a perfect day for the all Ireland foot ball championship – kerry beat cork by 4 points. if you dont know irish football check out GAA http://www.gaa.ie/
best fastest hard hitting sport i’ve ever seen. tomorrow a new batch of st johns tincture will be ready.
todays yoga music was American Beauty by the Grateful Dead – one of the greatest albums ever by one of the ironically most underrated bands ever.
Tip for the day: try something new like bread or the grateful dead, or get somewhere comfortable and think about where does the sky begin, where does it end? where do you begin? (guess thats moe than one tip)
all roads are dead ends
designed to lead us where
someone else
thinks we should go
sage
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